


Year Two

by RingosLiverpool8



Series: HP/Beatles crossover [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Beatles
Genre: Bullying, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingosLiverpool8/pseuds/RingosLiverpool8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So begins the start of Year Two. Paul's a year older and is anticipating changes this year. Whether or not he'll like them, he doesn't know. He's met a new friend and has a stronger control over his curse. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. George Harrison

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Georgie! Because I like you guys, I worked all day yesterday on the start of Year Two.
> 
> Ok so, hope this is good. Thanks for sticking 'round. Enjoy!  
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP. This is fiction.

The summer went by much quicker than Paul anticipated. He was sure that just last week, he unloaded his trunk…maybe it was last week. Regardless, he sat on his bedroom floor listing out what he needed to take: socks, neatly folded in one spot, shirts and pants in another, and his robes, already in the trunk. Tomorrow, he would accompany his father to Diagon Alley since his mother wasn’t feeling well. She told him to bring her back a chocolate frog. Paul asked his father what was wrong with her and the elder McCartney assured him it was a simple virus that would soon pass. Paul accepted the excuse, wanting to believe she would get better. Her illness slipped from his mind as the school year approached and she seemed to get better.

Paul scratched Thisbe’s head, right behind her ear, where she liked. “Are you ready to go back?” He asked the cat. She stood up and rubbed up under Paul’s chin in affection. He giggled and picked her up. Walking downstairs, Mike spared him a glance and a wave. Paul smiled and continued into the kitchen where his parents were having a quiet discussion. They stopped as soon as their son walked in.

“Hi, Paulie,” she cooed at her oldest son, “you all packed then?” Paul shook his head since he still had a few things to get from Diagon Alley. Mary McCartney pulled him into a tight hug which Paul had reciprocated. The conversation he had with her at the on his twelfth birthday still rang in his head.

_June 18_

_When a McCartney child had a birthday, it wasn’t taken lightly. It didn’t matter what age they turned, there was always lots of food, family, and cheek pinching. Especially with the eldest. Paul had grown a few inches the past year, well past the height of his younger brother. Everybody loved Paul, as was his lovable and magnetic personality. This didn’t leave much for the youngest, being the least attractive and now the shortest. So, Mike’s only choice was to start calling him ‘fatty’, since Paul’s baby fat still clung to his body, especially in his cheeks. The cheeks that every Auntie and grandmother pinched until red. Paul hated it. He was twelve, not a baby._

_The morning of Paul’s birthday, he got his favorite breakfast and an early gift, a new notebook, leather-bound with his initials pressed in the front flap. For the benefit of his parents, he was all smiles and happiness. It wasn’t until his father and brother left the kitchen that Paul let his emotional wall drop._

_“Mum?”_

_Mrs. McCartney turned off the kitchen sink and looked at her son, her face instantly twisting with worry. “Honey, what’s wrong? Is it the gift? We can get you-”_

_“No. I love it. This is something else.”_

_“Oh. Paul, it’s okay. Whatever it is.” She assured her troubled son. Deep worry flooded her thoughts, this son never acted anything less than happy and optimistic._

_“Promise not to tell Dad?” Paul pleaded with anxious eyes._

_“Your secret safe with me, baby.”_

_A deep release of breath escaped Paul’s mouth. “I’ve been having feelings I’m not sure I should be having and I don’t know what to do.”_

_“Feelings? What do you mean?”_

_“Love.” Paul squeaked involuntarily, his face burning a violent shade of red._

_“Love?” Mary chuckled. “Love is very okay, Paulie. What’s her name?”_

_“Dorothy.”_

_“The girl you met at Hogwarts, the one you wrote home about?” Mary wondered why her son felt that he shouldn’t be having feelings for this girl._

_“Yeah, but, it’s not just her. I mean, I think I like her but there’s someone else, too.”_

_Mary raised her eyebrows. “Oh?” She always knew Paul would be a heartbreaker. Everyone told her Paul would grow up to be the cute one. The one all the girls fell for._

_“I don’t know how to do this,” Paul confessed._

_“It’s okay, Paulie, honey.”_

_“I like Zander, too.” Paul’s voice was small and quiet. He waited for his mother’s response._

_Here was something Mary wasn’t prepared for. She had to lean back and process. She always knew Paul was an emotional child, he was as a baby. When she looked up at her oldest child, her heart shattered. He looked so broken, something no newly-turned twelve-year-old should ever have to be._

_“You can love anyone you want to, James Paul McCartney,” she finally said and believed it. “We’ll keep this from your father, though.” Mary took pride in seeing Paul smile his brilliant smile._

_“It’s really okay, mum?”_

_“For me and a lot of others, but be careful, honey. People react differently. Your father and maybe even Zander. I don’t want you getting hurt.”_

_Paul hugged his mother. “Thanks,” he whispered into her ear._

_“You know I’ll always support you no matter what. I love you.”_

_“Love you, too, Mum.”_

_~~~~_

Paul picked up his supplies and textbooks for his second year at Hogwarts as well as his mother’s chocolate frog. Soon, it was time to leave for London. The whole family packed up and accompanied him. Paul enjoyed riding the trains with the muggles. He liked the hearing their conversations about all sorts of things he couldn’t even begin to describe. In contrast, his father hated sharing with the muggles, they were just an inconvenience for him. Even when the little old lady complimented Paul and Mike’s wonderful behavior, Jim McCartney merely grunted a ‘thank you’. Paul, however, smiled at her and received a stern look from his father. Paul just didn’t get why his father acted that way.

The McCartney household unloaded themselves into King’s Cross station and transported Paul’s things to the archway between platforms nine and ten. They all ran between the, greeted with the wondrous sight of the Hogwarts Express. Paul loaded his things and perched Thisbe on his shoulder.

He hugged his family goodbye, his mother holding on a little longer. “You’ll be okay, Paul. Remember what I said,” she whispered. Paul nodded and hugged her a little tighter. Saying his final goodbyes, he boarded the train. Paul walked past compartment after compartment, all too full for his liking. Finally, he found one with only one person inside. Paul concluded he was probably a first year since he didn’t look familiar.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Paul asked politely.

“Sure.” The kid smiled nervously, his accent quite thick.

“I’m Paul, by the way, Paul McCartney.” Paul held out his hand.

The lanky first year grabbed it. “George Harrison.”


	2. George Harrison Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have this story planned out all the way up until Year Six! I don't know why I insist on Paul getting put in rough situations, but just wait until year three (there will be a mature rating here...) and four.... :D I promise I'll update 'He's Leaving Home' soon. I have an ending for it I just don't know how to get there quite yet... be patient with me :3 
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor do I own HP  
> This is fiction

Paul laughed…really laughed. George Harrison was a funny kid, his sense of humor dry and witty. He was skinny, with bushy eyebrows that could give a caterpillar a run for its money. Paul found out pretty early that George was a muggle-born, not that he really cared, but his father definitely would. They talked for thirty minutes about muggle things because Paul really wanted to know things like what a dentist was and the point of football. George couldn’t help but laugh at Paul’s curiosity and couldn’t help but think of what a weirdo ( _who doesn’t know what a dentist is?)_ he was becoming friends with.

In their deep, very important discussion, the two boys missed their compartment door slide open.

“Hey, Paulie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Paul disengaged from his conversation to look up at the owner of the voice. “Ivan. I didn’t see you come in. This is George.”

“Hey, George. I’m Ivan Vaughan, Paul’s friend. Gryffindor.” Ivan shook George’s hand.

“So Paul’s a Slytherin and you’re a Gryffindor? I thought that-” George began.

“That feud is ridiculous,” Paul interrupted, “I have friends in every house.”

“Yeah. Everyone,” Ivan added with a slight smirk on his face, “Paul is the most loved person at Hogwarts. Not lying. All our professors…all the girls…” He winked at an amused George and glanced over at an embarrassed Paul.

The three students chattered about what they expected from the year. Ivan and Paul were surprised by how much George already knew about the wizarding world. He could easily hold up a conversation about Quidditch.

Ivan didn’t notice Paul’s sudden change in behavior, but George did. He watched, half-listening to Ivan, as a dark haired, grey-eyed boy opened up the compartment door. Paul stiffened.

“-and you wouldn’t believe – hey Zander, Dot – they just…” Ivan continued but George tuned him out. He had to figure out which one of the two made Paul so nervous. It wasn’t until Zander sat down next to Paul that George saw it. There was something going on between Zander and Paul, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Why are you two sitting here with this first-year? We had a compartment and were waiting for you.” Zander said, scooching a little closer to Paul, who looked down at the cat in his lap.

“This ‘first-year’ has a name and its George.” George sneered and pointed to himself. He does not like Zander one bit and it didn’t help what he was doing to Paul. The one person in the room who hadn’t said a word in about ten minutes.

“I’m changing into my robes, so I’ll see you at the castle.” Zander stood back up, sure to brush against Paul as much as possible, and nodded to everyone. “ _George._ Ivan. Dot.” He looked Paul in the eyes. “ _Paulie._ ”

Paul blushed hard and George saw it and knew. “Hey Paul, I’m gonna change, too, if you wanna come along?” George asked wanting to tell him it was okay.

“Hm? Yeah, okay.” Paul grabbed a bundle of black from the luggage hold above the seats. They headed towards the bathrooms on the train.

“Hey, Paul, um, I know we just met and all but you looked really nervous in there and I know why and I promise I’m not prejudiced. I’ve got an uncle…well two if you count Uncle Tim. Well they’re not married but I was told to call him Uncle, too. Uncle Stephen is my related uncle a-“

“George.” Paul giggled with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah…”

The two made eye contact and burst out into hysterical laughter. They weren’t sure what they were laughing at but to Paul it felt good, it felt natural, even. After they changed into their robes, the boys talked about their similar taste in music and Paul was surprised to learn that George, too, played guitar. He also found out that George owned three different guitars. Needless to say, Paul fell impressed with the younger boy and what made him the happiest was that there were no conflicted feelings towards George at all. He felt camaraderie, something he’d wanted. George knew and didn’t seem to really care at all that he liked another boy, he had an Uncle, after all.

Before getting off the train, Paul gave George a protection necklace which George deemed a little weird at first, but softened when he explained what it was for. He told Paul that he thought the curse, or superpower as he liked to call it, was cool and slipped the necklace on under his shirt. Shortly after, George was called off by Hagrid to take the scenic route to the castle. He waved bye to George and ran up to walk to the castle with Ivan.

~~~~

Paul sat down at the Slytherin table across from Zander and Dot and next to a fourth year by the name of Marion. As the first years came bumbling in, Paul searched them for George. He found him between two boys with bright red hair. George made eye contact with Paul, waving and winking. Paul smiled and waved back with a thumbs up, much to Zander’s dismay. Paul wasn’t paying attention to him and he couldn’t stand it. George wasn’t going to be in his way, not if he had something to say about it. Paul was his.

“Paulie!” Zander called to Paul, grabbing his wrist on the table. Paul spun around quickly and lifted his eyebrows.

Zander had to think of something quick. “Lean forward. Your tie is a little crooked.” He stood slightly to reach over the table to ‘fix’ Paul’s tie. Their faces were brought together much to close for Paul. The distraction only lasted a few minutes before Paul realized he missed the first few sorted students. Paul turned his attention back to the sorting ceremony.

“Fred Weasley!” Professor McGonagall announced. One of the red-headed boys stepped forward. Paul should have known he they were Weasley’s.

Almost immediately the sorting hat shouted, “Gryffindor!” The second red-head, also named George, followed his brother. The hat also placed him in Gryffindor. \

It was two Slytherins and two Ravenclaws before George Harrison’s name was called out. He had a look stoic enough that Paul thought George might kill someone. A moment of the hat oh-ing and ah-ing passed and it yelled:

“Hufflepuff!” The Hufflepuff table cheered loudly for its newest member and Paul clapped along with them.

Soon enough, the beginning-of-year speeches ended and dinner began. Paul settled down amongst his friends and first-years. The first-years were surprised Paul even wanted to talk to them. After introducing himself to them and chatting for a little bit, he decided he’d take some time to eat, however, he could hardly take a bite with his two friends constantly going saying ‘Paul, this-’ and ‘Paul, that-’.

“Could you let me eat for five minutes, please?” Paul snapped and immediately felt bad for it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off that rude. We’ll talk after dinner, yeah?” Paul searched their faces for approval and got it when both Zander and Dot flashed him an apologetic, wide grins. He went back to eating his food in peace, missing the strained look of competition exchanged between two friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evilly taps fingers together*   
> Seriously, I hope you all are enjoying this. As I said things are going to pick up.... OH! and I have a slight interaction planned between Paul and Harry Potter.... gonna be so good.
> 
> <3 RingosLiverpool8


	3. If I Catch You Talking To That Boy Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Hope this is good.
> 
>  
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP. This is fiction

Since all is homework was finished early, Paul decided to sit down and finally write in his new notebook. He chose his favorite spot in the common room: a black, squishy leather chair secluded in the corner of the room. The view is what he loved the most. The Black Lake could be seen for miles, the flora and fauna ever present, often whisking Paul away to another place. Paul thought about using it for inspiration, for what he didn’t know. The blank page in front of Paul taunted him mercilessly as he stared at it. Nothing. He couldn’t think of anything to decorate the first page. Dragging the feather of his quill across his face, an idea popped into his brain: lyrics. Paul was always good at poetry, so why not try writing things he could play on his guitar. He began to scribble things on the front page, brainstorming. Three full pages later, a visitor disrupted him from his writing session.

“Paul, what are you doing?” It was Dot, her blonde, short hair wet from what Paul assumed was rain.

“Nothing, really. Why?” Paul closed the notebook, sliding it off to the side. He didn’t realize the annoyed tone in his voice, not until Dot backed away a little.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of short with us the past few weeks.” She took the seat next to Paul. “You can talk to me, Paul.” Dot did her best to make him realize she liked him. Paul just never catches on, much to her frustration.

“Oh. I haven’t realized. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad… I haven’t been sleeping well and I suppose I’m a little grouchy is all.” He wasn’t lying. Sleep has been elusive for a few days, giving him at best four hours a night. Paul didn’t know why.

Dot picked up his hand from its place on the arm rest and held it. “Maybe you should go to the nurse. Get a sleeping draft.”

“I gue-”

“PAUL! Guess what!” Zander came barging into the room, nearly tripping over the carpet, soaked from head-to-toe from the rain.

Paul couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute he looked. “What?” He smiled and dropped Dot’s hand. Needless to say, Dot didn’t take kindly to the action. She got up and walked up to the girl’s dormitory without saying a word to the boys.

“I made the house team! Chaser…” Zander sat down on the arm rest of the chair Dot previously sat in.

“Really? I’m so happy for you!” Paul stood up from his chair to give Zander a hug, who gladly accepted. The two Slytherins lingered a little longer than normal. Paul felt Zander’s increased heartrate through his damp clothes and his labored breathing hot on his neck. He smelled like rain, Paul observed, and a hint of eucalyptus.

Zander was upset when Paul pulled away, but at least he got what he wanted. Dot wouldn’t try anything anymore since she sprinted back up the stairs in tears. Oh, and Zander could have sworn he felt Paul smelling him.

~~~~

George wandered into the Great Hall for lunch, his stomach growling uncontrollably. Being quiet all the time had its perks, he could easily sit alone and not be lonely. The less people that were around, the more food he could eat.

George took a seat on the far left table and set his bag down on the spot beside him. He was about to enjoy a huge bite out of his amazing sandwich when a loud thud disrupted him. Scrunching his face, he looked up. Paul sat across from him, completely dejected.

George bit into his sandwich anyway and spoke with his mouth full. “Spill it, McCartney.”

“How…?” Paul looked up from his hands.

“You look like somebody killed your cat.” Paul seemed taken aback by the expression and George restated. “You’re obviously upset.”

“Oh. George, I don’t know what to do.”

“That tells me nothing, Paul.”

“You know how I feel about Zander,” Paul’s voice a low whisper, “I think he might feel the same… I sound like a girl.”

George snickered. “…And you look like one, too. All joking aside, Paul, you’re allowed to feel things.”

“Do you think I should, you know, go for it?” Paul played in the soup, George didn’t realize was there.

“No. Let him go first,” George paused before continuing, “I don’t like him, Paulie. As a person. I think he’s smarmy. However, I’ll play nice if he makes you happy.”

Paul really thought George’s misgivings about Zander were harsh and unjust, but George was his best friend. “He can be a jerk sometimes, but he’ll warm up to you.”

“I believe you, you’re my best mate.” George drank the rest of his water.

“Am I?” Paul batted his eyelashes at George sarcastically.

“Git.”

A peanut flew at Paul’s head, hitting him right in the middle of the forehead. The two friends burst out into laughter. They picked up their stuff and walked out of the Great Hall. Paul failed to notice a pair of eyes follow him out.

Zander decided then that George Harrison had to go. He had Paul right where he wanted him and George was just a distraction.

~~~~

In a hurry to get back to the Hufflepuff common room, George sped along the empty corridor. He and Paul were going to play on their guitars a little and George still had to go get his from under the bed. All wrapped up in his thoughts, George ran right into another student.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to pass without any trouble.

A hand grabbed his bicep. “Not so fast, _George_.”

George’s eyes widened when he looked up to see Zander standing there with three other Slytherins.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Zander continued.

“Why do you care?” George retorted.

“Why do I…why do I care?” Zander gripped George’s bicep a little harder and tugged him closer, making George gasp in pain. “I care because you need to back off from Paul.”

“Back off? He’s my best mate!” George felt anger creep up through his body, but he didn’t stand a chance against four people bigger than him.

“Paul is mine, you got that? You aren’t going to get in my way, if you so much as mention anything to him, I’ll cure you.”

“Like you’d get away with it…”

Zander punched him in the stomach. “I’d be praised for it.”

George could only give a cough in response from the pain radiating from his abdomen.

“I’d be praised because you’re just a disgusting _mudblood_.” With a biting emphasis on the last word, Zander pushed George down on the ground. “I’ll know if Paul finds out.”

George stayed on the ground to avoid any other incidents. He listened to footsteps fall away and when he rolled over, he looked up to see Professor McGonagall’s face glaring down at him.

“Mr. Harrison, why are you on the ground?”

“I-I fell.” George squeaked.

“Well, pick yourself up. Don’t want to be blocking the corridors.” She stalked off leaving George to scramble getting his stuff back together. George had no idea what to do. Zander really didn’t scare him that much, he just didn’t want to upset Paul more than he already was and he made a promise to play nice. Paul was head-over-heels for Zander and George knew that Paul would get hurt. Maybe, George thought, he would just have to let it happen and be there to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps fingers evilly again*
> 
> <3 RingosLiverpool8


	4. So This Is Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I've had this written out for a week. It's a little longer than usual and kinda a filler chapter :) <3 RingosLiverpool8
> 
> Don't own HP or the Beatles and assoc. It's all fiction

It was totally under control now, or so Paul thought. He decided not to take his Siren’s potion that day to try it out. The annual Frog Choir Holiday performance was the last day before holiday break and Paul felt confident. They would perform classic holiday songs and their staple song, _Something Wicked This Way Comes._ He practiced all the songs with George and got a rather good perception.

Paul stood in the middle of the choir, with his ability to change octaves so easily. The three members who held the frogs stood two on the sides and one in the middle, all in the front row. Professor Flitwick positioned himself in front of the choir, hands up, ready to conduct the choir. He signaled for the first breath and the show began.

Everything flowed smoothly…until the third song. Flitwick didn’t give his singers much of a break between songs and Paul’s throat was getting tired. At the mid-point of the third song, he lost control of the curse and the room, excluding the select few who had protection, grew quiet and intensely focused on Paul. He immediately ceased singing, making eye-contact with George who’s eyes and mouth were wide with shock. Dot and Zander also looked around the room in fascination.

Dumbledore stepped in his line of vision, “Simply tell them to ‘stop’, Paul.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t sing for the rest of the concert and I want to see you after dinner.” With that, Dumbledore took his seat.

“Stop,” Paul said and the room flickered back to life, adorning the room with confused faces. Flitwick awkwardly resumed conducting, flooding the room with the voices of the Frog Choir, minus one embarrassed second-year.

~~~~

Paul accompanied Dumbledore back to his office in deafening silence. He knew he had to be in trouble.

“That was not a good thing to do, Paul. I think you know that. I understand why you did it, though.”

Paul shook his head in agreement, clearly upset that he messed up.

“You have been doing very well in your training, but you’re not strong enough yet. Don’t let this discourage you though, I’m quite impressed that you held it as long as you did. Not many could do that with only a year and a half of training.” Dumbledore looked on as the young McCartney kept his eyes on the floor. “Is everything okay? I wouldn’t have pegged you to be so careless.”

“I really did just think I had it under control and I thought it would be okay. That could’ve been a disaster. I realize that now,” Paul excused. It was partly the truth; he did want to stop taking the potion. Zander had been the one to convince him to try it.

“If you’re sure, I’ll let you get back to the common room. You’ve probably got packing left to do.” Dumbledore winked at Paul, letting him know he wasn’t in trouble.

“Thank you, sir.” Paul strolled out of the headmaster’s office and nearly sprinted to the Slytherin common room, relieved he wasn’t punished.

In his bed, he sat up for a little longer writing in his notebook. Paul had a few songs, none of them any good to be played out loud. He wrote for a few more hours and before Paul knew it, the clock turned to 2:45 in the morning. The other second-years slept soundly in their beds, Paul being the only one awake. He knew he should’ve taken the sleeping draught. However, he could always sleep on the train. Paul put away his notebook and Noxed the light on his wand. He roughly switched to his side, nearly knocking Thisbe off, who somehow got underneath the covers. She grunted at the unwanted movement but didn’t get up. Paul thought about the Holidays and how George would be staying over for a couple days. He loved having George as a best friend, someone who understood and supported him no questions asked.

****

“He’s a what?” Jim McCartney almost spit out his morning Earl Grey.

“A muggle born. He’s my best friend, dad, and I want him to come over.” Paul asked his mother who said yes, but she told him to ask his father, too.

“James Paul McCartney, you-” Jim began to raise his voice, causing his son to wince.

“Jim. I want to speak with you, please.” Mary asked calmly.

“Mary, I’m-”

“Now.”

Paul watched both his parents leave the kitchen and waited until the door closed before eavesdropping on their conversation. He felt a little guilty for it, but Paul had to know.

_‘Jim…’_

_‘Mary, the kid is a mudblood-’_

_‘JAMES. Don’t use that word. You need to realize Paul has feelings. If George is his best friend, you need to accept that… Jim, you need to learn some of this, you barely know your oldest son.’_

_‘Don’t expect me to like the kid.’_

_‘Thank you, I wouldn’t expect you to. Just be nice. For Paul’s sake.’_

Paul scrambled back into the kitchen to sit in his seat. His parents couldn’t know he listened. Mary was right, Jim spent most of his time with Mike and near neglected Paul.

“I have decided George can stay,” Jim said rather emotionlessly.

Paul’s face lit up with excitement. “Thanks, Dad! George is great, really, you’ll like him. Honest.” With a peck on the cheek to his mother and a hug for his father, Paul ran back up to his room to finish wrapping George’s gift.

A few nights later, George arrived at the McCartney house. He couldn’t believe the size. Paul had told George that his mother worked at St. Mungo’s but didn’t elaborate on what his father did. He did know Jim McCartney was a Death Eater who claimed to be under the Imperius curse. George always thought that the McCartney fortune came from that, Paul never said anything.

He greeted Paul’s parents and younger brother politely. Mrs. McCartney was very kind to him but it seemed that Mr. McCartney and Paul’s younger brother were just observing the necessary pleasantries. George could guess why they acted that way.

“I’m sorry, Geo. They’ll come ‘round. Anyway, here.” Paul handed George a sloppily wrapped gift. The paper flew in all directions as George ripped it up.

“Gear! Thanks, Paul! I don’t have these yet,” George said, flipping through the records from front to back. “Here’s mine. My mum made it.”

Paul eagerly opened the neatly wrapped present. He pulled out a soft sweater and gently rubbed the fabric between his thumb and index finger.

George sighed. “You hate it…”

“No! Really, Georgie, I love it.” The sweater hung a little loose due to the size being a bit too large.

An ear-to-ear grin spread across George’s face. “There’s something else there…”

Paul removed the rest of the tissue paper to reveal an odd shaped parcel crudely wrapped in the bottom.

“I snuck them out of the house. I know your parents don’t like you eating sweets, but my mum makes the best.” George snuck one of the little pieces of chocolate from the bag Paul held open. Mischievously grinning, Paul stuck in his hand, pulling out a few pieces. His eyes grew wider than normal.

“Good, huh?” George mumbled with a piece stuck in his cheek.

Paul shook his head, eyes brimming with content.

The rest of the evening, the two boys sat around strumming partial songs on their guitars. George taught Paul a few new chords and they tried to put melodies to the songs that Paul’d written down in his book. Getting slightly bored, they decided to stick on their winter clothes and play around in the snow before dinner.

While working together to build a large snowman, George decided it would be the best time to bring up Zander. “Hey, Paulie?”

“What?” Paul popped up from behind the snowman.

“You fancy Dot, too, right?”

The back of the snowman became very interesting to Paul. “Yeah… I think…”

George knew he was pushing it. “She’s great, you know? Really nice and she likes you a lot. You should-”

“I don’t know, George, okay?” Paul snapped and then sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so confused, Geo. It’s frustrating.”

George smoothed out a little of the snowman’s body with a gloved hand and adjusted his Hufflepuff scarf snugly around his neck. “Why are you apologizing?” The question came out harsher than he wanted it to.

“I don’t-”

“You have every right to yell at people who drive you nuts.”

“You don’t drive me nuts, George.”

“Then I’m not being a very good best friend.” Out of nowhere a snowball flew and hit Paul’s chest.

“No, you’re not.” Paul smiled and returned two more snowballs in George’s direction and they fell into something just short of a war until Paul’s mother came out and created a truce.

The McCartney’s ate a nice dinner of pork chops and mashed potatoes served with pumpkin juice to drink. George never noticed until then that Paul never ate any meat. His plate was stacked with peas, steamed carrots, and mashed potatoes. The rest of the family had a full plate. George had to wonder why the baby fat stuck to Paul so much.

After dinner, the boys helped clean the kitchen. Mike was sure to have Paul stand between him and George. They each took an individual dish after they’d been washed and dried it off to be put away later. Paul tried to get Mike to come up to his room and play some games, but Mike refused and ran back downstairs to sit with their parents. Paul shrugged and pulled out the Wizard’s Chess board from the closet. That was one thing Paul got to teach George how to play.

The two friends slept well that night, sharing Paul’s bed. As usual, Paul still woke up despite being exhausted from the day’s activities. Getting out of bed was almost impossible since George practically wrapped himself around Paul’s body. Although Paul didn’t mind, he needed to take his sleeping draft to help him fall back asleep. George mumbled in his sleep as Paul successfully pushed him off. Paul lifted off the lid of the blue glass bottle and gagged at the putrid taste. As soon as he settled back in, George immediately latched himself onto Paul, snuggling in closer. An odd sense of warm comfort spread through his body and Paul was drifting off into a dreamless sleep.


	5. He's Got The Devil In His Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's the second to last chapter for year two. Hope you enjoy it as much as I love writing it. I forgot to say, I messed with timelines again. "Too Much Rain" is probably my favorite song by Sir Paul. Written I think, correct me if I'm wrong, in 2005. So I don't own that either... 
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP.

Winter break proved to be relaxing for Paul. Enough so that his nerves calmed down around his two friends and the tensions began to die between George and Zander. The only problem was that Dot had been avoiding him, so Paul decided to approach her.

He saw her sitting with a group of girls who giggled lightly as he came near them. “Dot?”

“Hi, Paul.” More giggling.

“Can I talk to you…alone.”

“I guess.”

Paul pulled her off to where they couldn’t be heard. “Is everything okay between us? You didn’t return any of my owls over break.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

Paul scrunched up his facial features. “You’re my friend, of course I wanted you to. Why would you think that?”

“Every time I want to be friends, Zander gets all your attention and you never see me leave. It’s like he fol-”

“What?” Paul turned around to see Zander standing right behind him. When Paul spun back around, Dot was already walking back to her friends. Guilt tugged at his heart and he looked at Zander, who just raised his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know…I’ve pushed her away…” Paul trailed off, eyes locking on George walking with the Weasley twins. Zander snarled, obviously annoyed that George hadn’t stayed away.

“She’s pushed you away, Paulie.” Zander lied.

“Mmm.” Paul didn’t entirely believe it was _all_ her fault.

“Come on, let’s go sit somewhere.” Zander tugged Paul’s robe and Paul let himself be dragged off. He was led to an empty corridor. The pair sat down on a bench, leaving barely any space between them. They sat in silence for a good while and Paul leaned let himself lean into Zander. Paul found it so much harder to stay happy. He couldn’t help but let the storm clouds shroud the tiny rays of light left of the sunshine. He needed to talk to George.

“Zander…I have to go.” Paul stood up, leaving a fuming Zander alone on the bench.

Zander stared hard at the fleeing figure disappearing down the corridor. There was one way he could know for certain what Paul’s feelings were. He knew Paul wrote in a notebook. Zander slowly got up and made his way to the Slytherin common room.

Paul kept his things neatly organized around his bed. For Paul, everything had its place. For Zander, he couldn’t find the notebook anywhere. It wasn’t under the pillow, or in the nightstand, or in his trunk. For the book to be on Paul’s person was out of the question because Zander would’ve seen it there. He felt around on the sheets but only got a cat scratch and a his from Paul’s cat. Zander hated the cat.

He continued to search around the room for any hint to where he would find the elusive notebook. As his eyes swept Paul’s belongings one more time, Zander realized he missed one place: under the mattress. Sure enough, the leather bound book was tucked securely between the box spring and the mattress.

Zander flipped through past the first few pages due to them being mostly scribbles and unrecognizable doodles. The last few entries were what interested him. Paul’s girlish script stood out on the page amongst an unfamiliar scratch writing. Zander growled as he realized it was probably Harrison’s. The jealousy soon replaced itself with mischief and smugness. Several pages had ‘Z’ written decoratively in the bottom left corner and also had what Zander assumed were poems. Poems about love. Wheels rotated at a dangerous speed in his head. As far as Zander was concerned, Paul was already wrapped around his finger.

Out of curiosity, Zander flipped to the last page Paul wrote in, marked with yesterday’s date.

_*Too Much Rain?*_

_Too Much Rain_

_It’s too much for ~~me~~ anyone_

_Too hard for anyone_

_Who wants a happy and ~~joyful~~ peaceful life._

_· ·_

_Sigh, as you think about tomorrow_

_Make a vow, that you’re gonna be happy ~~again~~ again_

_· ·_

_It’s not right_

_In one life ~~time~~_

_Too much rain_

Zander shrugged, not thinking the poetry as anything more than mediocre. His initial wasn’t there, so it wasn’t of any importance anyway.

~~~~

George thought about what foods he would eat at dinner while walking to the Hufflepuff common room. He had to think of something or his mind would wander to his best friend. When Paul practically picked him up and carried him off, George didn’t know what to think. But seeing his face, George knew exactly why Paul had been so rash. Paul never got that way unless it had something to do with smarmy Zander. And George was absolutely right and he had no idea what to do or say to calm Paul down. He ended up resorting to simply listening and Paul calmed down on his own.

Obviously not thinking about Paul made George think about Paul and run straight into two of Zander’s goons.

“Watch it mudblood.” One of them cackled.

“Look at the little cretin. He’s _scared_ ,” the other jeered, “and his ears all red and abnormal.”

George attempted to run in the other direction but got yanked back by his messenger bag. The contents of that bag were spilled out in the corridor and George felt himself lifted up off the ground by his robes and his scarf pulled a little too tight. He closed his eyes and turned his head, bracing for both a physical blow and a magical one by the wand shoved up into his abdomen.

Two distinct voices caused his assailants to drop him hard onto the floor.

“Hey!”

“GEORGE!”

George heard sets of footsteps take off away from him and two sets begin to approach him. A hand hooked itself under his armpit and as he looked up to thank his aid, he shoved them away with as much force as he could muster. Zander looked at him, eyes reading fake shock and hurt, tinged with malice. George returned the stare, boring murder in Zander’s direction.

“George!”

He spun quickly at the sound of Paul’s voice.

“Geo, are you okay? Did they hurt you? How long has this been happening? Why didn’t you tell me?” Paul’s mouth ran a million miles per hour.

“No. It’s never happened before…” George lied, “I’m fine. Really.”

Paul picked up some of George’s things and Zander picked up the rest. George ripped his books from Zander’s hand.

Paul saw George’s nasty glare and actions towards Zander. “George, he’s trying to help…”

“I’m sure he is.” George spat and stalked off down the corridor.

“What did I do?” Paul asked dejected, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know, Paulie. Maybe Harrison’s not who he says he is.” Zander replied and placed a hand on Paul’s back.

Paul didn’t say anything but continued to stare at George’s shrinking figure until he disappeared around a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me.... They'll make up.  
> Also, have you all read "The Cursed Child" yet??? I did and I swear it was more like fanfiction than it was a continuation... anyway...
> 
> Have a great week! <3 RingosLiverpool8


	6. In Spite Of All The Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a crappy chapter and I apologize. I'll get better, I promise. 
> 
>  
> 
> Don't own the Beatles and assoc. nor HP

For the next few days, George wouldn’t talk, let alone look at Paul and it was slowly breaking whatever Paul had left in his heart. The incident with Zander didn’t exactly leave George unscathed either. Not talking to Paul was the worst possible thing he’d ever done and George regretted every minute.

“George! George!”

A voice he didn’t recognize at first called behind him on his way to charms. He stopped to see Dot running towards him, breathing heavily.

“Dot?” George questioned suspiciously. She’d never really spoken to him

“George, Paul’s in the infirmary. Dumbledore’s asked me to come get you. Paul. He’s been asking for you and won’t tell anyone what’s wrong.”

George stared at her blankly, not entirely sure what to say or think.

“I haven’t told Zander. He’s not there,” She added.

“Let’s go.”

Paul sat quietly in the infirmary bed, clutching onto the sheets. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but he felt awful. Madame Pomfrey told him he wasn’t eating enough and the effects of the two potions he’s been taking are much worse on an empty stomach. His parents had been notified and that scared Paul. Pretty soon, Mr. and Mrs. McCartney would be barging through the infirmary doors demanding to know why he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

“Paulie…” A small voice squeaked from across the room.

“George!” Paul’s eyes lit up with hope.

“What happened?” George asked, voice devoid of emotion.

“Madame Pomfrey says I’m not eating enough.” Paul confessed and knew it was true. Ever since his fight with George, he hadn’t wanted to eat. He did show up at dinner time but only ate a few bites.

George sat down next to him, bringing down the barriers he set up. “It’s all my fault…Paul I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you. I was just so angry and I know how you feel about _him_ but Paulie, I don’t like him. He’s not good enough for you. Dot was right. He does seem to follow you around. It’s a bit creepy don’t ya think?”

“You have such high standards for me. How is anyone supposed to reach those?” Paul joked.

George gave him a stink face. “Yeah, you’re sick alright. Cracking jokes at a time like this. You should be ashamed of yourself McCartney”

“I only learned from the best.” A light shove from Paul’s leg sent George face-first on the floor.

“Hey!” George’s voice cracked with laughter.

“I guess you forgive me now?”

“Yeah but I was being a jerk. So…I’m sorry, too. Maybe ‘smarmy-pants’ really does like you, but promise you’ll get away or tell me if something goes wrong.” George grimaced at the statement, knowing full well that Zander would use and hurt Paul for his own gain. If only he was a few inches taller and a little bit stronger…

A once-forgotten smile spread across Paul’s face, a smile that only George ever got to see. Paul never noticed that it was different. “Thanks, Geo. I also wanted to see if you wanted to come to my house for my birthday this summer. My mum wrote and asked if I wanted any friends over this year.”

“Duh. As long as there’s cake.”

“Can you at least pretend to get along with Zander, then?” Paul pleaded.

“I guess.”

Paul returned to classes the next day and felt better about going into the remaining months of his second year of Hogwarts. His mood raised significantly and the incident with George looked to be isolated. As March rolled around and the grounds started to show the first signs of spring, Paul acted more scatterbrained than usual. George couldn’t figure out what had Paul up in knots…that is until he was pulled aside and given the worst news of his life: Paul wanted help writing a song for Zander’s birthday.

They agreed to meet every day at lunch under Paul’s favorite tree. George had to hold in whatever dubious noises he wanted to give Paul as they worked on the song. So much emotion spilled out in the song, that George didn’t want to think that it was written for somebody as horrible as Zander. His best friend wore his heart on his sleeve and Zander took it for granted.

The song carried a ghost of a mixed Elvis-y type song. They had to rely on what they knew since neither of them read music.

Paul played the entire song out for George when they finished it. “So?”

George decided he should deserve an award for his acting as he put on a big smile. “He’s probably deaf if he doesn’t at least like it a little bit.”

A brilliant smile lit up Paul’s face and illuminated his rosy cheeks from the March breeze. At the same time, George’s heart broke into a thousand shards.

~~~~

Nerves shook Paul to his core, but he couldn’t give up now on what he worked so hard for. Zander sat with a group of older Slytherins, obviously telling a story by the movements of his hands and the expressions on his face. All Paul had to do was approach for the group to grow silent.

“Z-Zander, can I…um…have a moment?”

Zander smirked. “Sure. How long is it gonna take?”

“A few minutes, I don’t know, really? I need to show you something in the common room.”

Zander stared for a bit, because he was taken by surprise and not to mention a little curious. “Ok, then.” He couldn’t help but feel proud as Paul blushed a violent shade of red.

The walk up to the common room was silent as neither boy said a word to each other. The only sound came from Paul as he mumbled the password. No one lingered in the common room at this hour, mostly because of the improving weather. Therefore, Paul picked it as the best time to give Zander his birthday present.

Zander didn’t have a clue of what Paul wanted to show him and it scared him that he didn’t. It scared him that Paul evaded him so easily.

“What’d you bring me up here for?”

“Sit here.” Paul motioned to his bed. The other boy did as he was told and watched his companion pull a guitar out from under his bed.

“It’s not much, but I’ve written something, you know, for your birthday.” Paul continued, pulling out his guitar and sitting on the bed. “Here it goes.”

_In spite of all the danger_

_In spite of all that may be_

_I’ll do anything for you_

_Anything you want me to_

_If you’ll be true to me_

Paul made eye contact, gaining more courage to continue.

_In spite of all the heartache_

_That you may cause me_

_I’ll do anything for you_

_Anything you want me to_

_If you’ll be true to me_

  * _· · ·_



_I’ll look after you_

_Like I’ve never done before_

_I’ll keep all the others_

_From knocking at your door_

  * _· · ·_



_In spite of all the danger_

_In spite of all that may be_

_I’ll do anything for you_

_Anything you want me to_

_If you’ll be true to me_

  * _· · ·_



_In spite of all the heartache_

_That you may cause me_

_I’ll do anything for you_

_Anything you want me to_

_If you’ll be true to me_

_I’ll do anything for you_

_Anything you want me to_

_If you’ll be true to me_

Paul felt the last note shake through his fingertip and down his body. He was surprised that his voice didn’t shake and that he remembered the words and notes. Everything in Paul’s brain told him to run and he contemplated it until a hand ran down the neck of his guitar.

“I think I could listen to that forever.” Zander figured out those poems in Paul’s book weren’t poems at all, but songs. The one Paul sang, however, was new. Zander hadn’t seen that one in the book the last time he looked. He watched as Paul’s face lifted and he couldn’t help but think, _got him._

~~~~

Exam week approached quicker than any of them expected. Paul especially. He stayed up late almost every night studying for them and writing the final essays. On top of those, were two extra essays. Zander came to him worried that he wouldn't be able to get everything done, so Paul agreed to write two of his essays for him. The look of sheer worry and distress coming from the other boy ended up being reason enough for Paul to do it.

Four in the morning snuck up entirely too quick for Paul, but he'd finished all his essays and pulled in some extra studying for his exams. The sleeping draft wasn't needed for him to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Strangely enough, Paul dreamed that night. In the dream, a boy he didn't recognize stood over him, reaching a hand down to pull him up. Paul’s dream intensely focused on a rather unruly tuft of auburn hair on the boy’s head. He heard his name called in an almost nasally, but deep, voice. _Paul…Paul…Paul…_

“Paul!”

Paul almost fell out of his bed. He rubbed his eyes and saw a familiar figure leaning over him.

“Malcolm?” Paul asked sleepily.

“Yeah! Get up, charms exam is in fifteen minutes!”

“WHAT?” Paul leapt out from underneath the covers, practically ripping his pajamas off. He threw on his uniform, not caring if it was dirty or not, and ran to the charms classroom.

Two minutes to spare and breathing heavily, Paul plopped down in the empty seat next to Zander, sweating. “Zander, why didn't you wake me?” He whispered.

“I figured you were gonna sleep in…” Zander answered, not feeling it was his duty to have woken him up.

“I _never_ sleep in.”

“Sorry.”

“Y-” Paul started to get agitated.

“Alright, wands away. Time for the written portion. A quill and ink have already been supplied. You have 90 minutes. Please turn your exam in to me when finished. You may leave after you have done so.” Professor Flitwick interrupted, “No talking and no cheating. You may start once you get the exam.”

Paul sighed and picked up the quill. Flitwick smiled at him as the exams floated down to him.

As usual, Paul was the last one finished. Using the entire 90 minutes down to the last second. He didn't expect anyone to be waiting for him, but George sat dangling his legs, deep in thought.

“‘lo, Geo.” Exhaustion overtook Paul rather suddenly.

“Hey. You look like a you went seven rounds with a troll.” George dead panned.

“Gee. Thanks.”

George hopped down to walk with Paul. “I mean that in the kindest way possible.”

“I'm sure.” If there was one thing Paul was grateful for, it was George’s natural ability to make him laugh. George made sure Paul ate lunch before allowing him to take a much deserved nap.

As George predicted, Paul passed his exams and classes. He, however didn't do so well in potions. George didn't expect to, since he was terrified of Professor Snape. When they departed Hogwarts, Paul still looked tired and pale and it worried George to let Paul go home like that.

They shared a compartment with Dot and Zander, much to George’s silent complaints. He got on well with Dot and made easy conversation with her. But it irked George the way Zander glanced over at him as Paul was drifting off to sleep on Zander’s shoulder.

Paul’s head landed kind of roughly on Zander’s shoulder as sleep completely overtook him. The sleeping boy missed the smirking glances thrown towards his best friend and the eyes filled with daggers and hatred landing on, well, Paul really didn't know what he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year two is complete and year three will be up soon and more exciting (and painful... I'm sorry, but it has to be this way).


End file.
